


Sink

by IrisPatton



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Crying, Depression, Disassociation, Gen, Generalized Character, Generalized Male Character, Hurt No Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Minor Starvation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Self-Anchoring, Sporadic Updates, no self harm, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-23 00:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisPatton/pseuds/IrisPatton
Summary: He doesn't even know when it started but he lost himself in this void of emptiness. Slowly killing him in the most brutal way -alone. And at this point he doesn't even know if he wants to be found. So he stays there, in the thick of it. Sinking deeper every day. And he says, "I'm fine".Generalized Male Character. No Self Harm.Trigger Warning for Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Disassociation and Minor Starvation.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> I re-uploaded it in Original Works and changed quite a few tags. You might wanna check them first before reading this. This isn't Beta'd. The updates will be sporadic depending on my mood and motivation to write. So, for now I'm tagging it as 'Complete'.
> 
> Generalized Male Character. No Self Harm.  
> Trigger Warning for Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Disassociation and Minor Starvation.

There are days when he is happy. Normal, just like every other person. Emotions in check and balanced.

 _Genuine_.

He would go about his day -wake up, breakfast, college, studies, hangout with friends, and nothing in particular. He enjoys these days.

And then he would see, listen something, someone - _anyone_ \- doing that one thing. A single slip of words -intentional or not- and he would spiral down.

Everything he was working on, all his control slipping through his fingers and he would _freeze_ in that moment. Knowing -just _knowing_ \- what was about to come and dreading being alone. His smile would fade, a ghost remaining. Going quiet, words precious.

And he’d be reduced to forced laughter, fake smiles and choked words.

 _Pretending_.

At the end of the day, he would find himself locked up in his room. _Crying. Shaking. Breathless_. Fingers grasping at his own hair, bed-sheets, to gain some _control_ and he would fail miserably. His sobs choked and muffled because _they-can’t-know_ and the hoard of _questions_ -that he wouldn’t be able to answer- if they find out.

A knock at the door. A call of his name.

_I’m okay._

They would leave.

He’ll skip dinner. _I’m tired. Not hungry. Long day_. A cache of excuses. He’ll cry himself to sleep that night.

*

*

*

*

Then there are days when he just wants to stop. When _pretending_ is too much and being _genuine_ is too much and he is stuck in a limbo between the two. Feeling soo much and not feeling enough. When he’d get teased for acting like a zombie because _they-don’t-know_ and he would play it of as being lazy. When all he wants to do is stay in bed and be alone and in the darkness.

He _despises_ being alone.

He is _terrified_ of the darkness.

He would get out of bed and continue like nothing happened.

*

*

*

*

He hates colors sometimes. Too bright and too _something_ that it make him want to _scream_ and _tear apart_ everything.

He would end up dressed in all black.

_I’m wearing every single color there is! You can’t complain!_

*

*

*

*

When he is too cold and shaking in June. In the midst of Summer clothes and _it’s too hot, hot, hot_. He would wear an extra layer underneath. So, no one would notice.

At night he would turn off the air conditioning and burry himself in a blanket to sleep.

Still Cold.

*

*

*

*

_Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe._

Too little air and too many tears.

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

A meltdown. Panic attacks.

 _Tired_.

*

*

*

*

An event to attend. Too many people. Small talks.

_Please I don’t wanna go._

An argument too loud. Desperation seeps in. Anxiousness too. 

He gives up. _Fine. I’ll go._

Compromised. Always.

*

*

*

*

_You should talk more. Don’t you want anyone to connect with. Why shut people out like that?_

Shrugs. _I don’t_. Lies.

_You’re really rude._

Conversations misdirected and misunderstood.

_Why can’t you change?! No one would like you this way!_

Brain overworking. Thoughts too loud. A plea to stop.

_I’m not enough._

*

*

*

*

More panic attacks.

 _Thinking. Thinking. Thinking_.

_I know. Please just stop. I'm sorry. Please stop._

More tears.

*

*

*

*

The worst days are the ones when he thinks he’s okay.

_It’s all in my head._

When the line between _pretending_ and _genuine_ blurs and he forgets what he wants to feel.

_Is it real? Am I happy? Or am I still faking?_

He asks himself. Never getting an answer.

The question orbits his entire being and he fluctuates between a _human_ and a _robot_.

Emotions _On_ and _Off_.

*

*

*

*

Meal proportions get smaller.

_Abstemious._

Skipped breakfasts. Lunches. Dinners.

_I’m eating enough. Don’t worry!_

Refused sweets, even though he’s a sweet addict.

_Ah, I ate too many!! I don’t wanna turn into a muffin top!_

*

*

*

*

_I want them to know._

_They can’t._

_I don’t want them to know._

_They should._

_But they don’t._

*

*

*

*

Meltdown. Shutdown.

_Crumble._

Meltdown. Shutdown.

_Restart._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language. So, if there are any mistakes, please mention them in the comments down below.


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short. 500 words approximately.
> 
> Generalized Male Character. No Self-Harm.  
> Trigger Warning for Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Disassociation and Minor Starvation.

He sits there in the middle of the night, muffling his sobs by his hands and pillow, a mess. He cries and cries and hopes no one listens because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if they saw him. He knows he can’t handle the inquiries, it will break him further. Because he doesn’t want to lie and he does it often enough to feel guilty about it.

 _I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong_.

The judgmental, worried and _weird_ looks that they’ll give him, he can’t handle them right now, because he _can’t-stop-crying_ and his thoughts are meandering somewhere he doesn’t want them to -somewhere dark and cold and he’s trembling and shaking _physically_.

A choked sob breaks free - _loud_ \- and he looks up alarmed from his curled-up position to check if someone heard it. No one does, no one ever does and he cries harder because he doesn’t want to tell them but wants them to just know, simultaneously.

_He’s not okay. He’s not fine._

He bites his hand -hard, to stop the noise from escaping his lips -fails miserably, though. His whole body shaking so much that he thinks for a moment if he’s having a seizure from the stress. His chest _hurts_ and his breathing is out of control and he feels like he’s drowning and choking and suffocating.

_Make it stop, please. Someone make it stop._

He pleads and begs but no one listens. He breaks further apart. His mind providing him with thoughts that kills him inside with every word. An old thought that he buried deep, resurfaces-

_It’s in my head. I’m making this up._

He repeats it again and again and again and again. He covers his ears but repeats it enough times to believe it, himself.

_I should stop being so overly dramatic. A bother, that’s what I am. I’m making this up. Nothing even happened, why am I reacting like this. There are people with bigger problems than mine. I can’t even control my thoughts, worthless, useless. A bother._

He stops abruptly, tears still cascading down his face but he attempts to wipe them -they still don’t stop. He stares at his trembling hands - _I don’t want to be alone._

He’s scared and he doesn’t know why. His face crumbles once again and he starts sobbing. He wraps the blanket around him tight, buries himself deep in it.

He cries for a long time. When he stops, it’s almost dawn. He lies there in his bed, starring at his ceiling. There’s an empty feeling inside of him -a void of sadness- the forlorn thoughts a dull echo in his head now. He feels cold in more ways than one and thinks if he’s sick again.

His stomach grumbles because he hasn’t eaten anything proper in _weeks_ , he ignores it. He’s tired, too, his body feels like lead. His eyes are half lidded and he’s sleepy now.

_I’m making this up. It’s all in my head._

The thought is still there when he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language. So, if there are any mistakes, please mention them in the comments down below.


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been uploading anything. Haven't been in a good place for a while and just kinda drowned in...yeah anyways.
> 
> These are snippets that I just wrote here and there. Still UnBeta'd. 
> 
> Generalized Male Character. No Self-Harm.  
> Trigger Warning for Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Disassociation and Minor Starvation.

Sometimes he craves touch, not of the sensual sort, something more elementary. A simple contact, be it with an animal or a person. A pat on the back, ruffling of hair or an accidental graze of body parts. Just to feel _something_. To keep him grounded.

Some days, he goes to his mother and hugs her tightly, that always seems more effective. Wrapped in her arms, her scent storming his senses. And she would just stay there, not saying a word. Sometimes, she was understanding like that. A tingling of feeling would seep in -contentment. He would release her with a sigh and a faint smile on his face- still not there but trying. _Thank you_ he says without words, his mother smiles back and kisses his forehead - _I love you_ , he feels like a child again instead of his teen-self.

*

*

*

*

He’s meandering again. Drifting somewhere he doesn’t know how to get back from. He tries and tries and tries, but he can’t find his way back. He functions on auto-pilot, feelings a mere notion. He watches as the days pass by, no one notices.

He snaps one day when he sees his mother, working in the kitchen. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s hugging her so tight that he himself can’t breathe. She hugs him back, a bit startled, she asks, _what’s wrong, sweetie?_ And he realizes that he’s crying -hysterically, anguish oozing out of him. He doesn’t even know what’s wrong. All he knows is that he needs someone and he feels like he’s going to either drown or choke. He clings to her more tightly.

He hears her say something but he can’t understand, sounds an underwater mush. She keeps whispering words of serenity never once pulling away, even though she is worried and doesn’t know what is wrong.

.

He startles awake on the couch and realizes that it was a dream. His mother -doesn’t matter how sweet- would never remain calm if he snaps like that in front of her. She would panic more than him and then everything would be about her.

Because; _I’m trying for you, sweety. I’m trying. You’re just making this hard and worrying us by doing this to yourself. Just stop thinking like that._ Because even though they don’t know, they still can tell when he loses grip on himself enough to stop caring about how he’s behaving or what he’s saying. He has lost count of how many times they have said these words to him –all lost in their meaning now. But, hearing them every time feels like they’re asking him to _stop eating, you’ll get use to_ _the hunger pangs_.

The feeling is still there. Like he’s being suffocated and there’s a black hole inside of him. So, he goes to his room and locks himself in it. His room has been a witness to many of his meltdowns –what’s one more- he has always been alone anyways.

*

*

*

*

Some days, it’s a deep yearning to be quiet -for his mind to be quiet. For himself to be quite. To not _think, analyze, think._ To function properly without _too much_.

He remains quiet on those days, painfully so. Because he _wants_ to speak- to talk with people, but he _can’t_. He can’t because if he talks, he’ll say something he’s not supposed to and they’ll get hurt. Or he might not say enough to be seem as _okay._

The words get stuck in his throat. And no matter what he tries -how _hard_ he tries- he can’t get more than a few sentences out. A few smiles and if tries hard enough -even more so- a laugh. All of forgotten nature. And every time he does voice out a response, it feels like someone is choking him and he’ll die of suffocation.

So he remains quiet whenever he can and if asked a question, tries to answer it without words. They all hate it of course. Hate it when he doesn’t speak.

_Why are you being so ungrateful to God! You have a voice, use it!! You won’t get anywhere in life without speaking. So, don’t be bratty!_

He isn’t being ungrateful.

He is grateful. He’s grateful but he doesn't think he deserves it.

It’s hard for him to talk sometimes and they don’t understand. It’s hard and he gets tired –so tired- that to form words is a herculean effort and everything else is a herculean effort as well. But he doesn’t have the energy to think up words and voice them out loud for everyone else to hear them because what-if-he-says-something-they-don’t-wanna-hear.

So he stays quite and takes the jabs that are thrown his way without a word.

*

*

*

*

Sometimes… sometimes he wants to run away. Away from everyone, their wants and needs and never look back. To hide amidst nature and just breathe. Because he’s tired -so tired- and angry and frustrated and sad that it’s physically affecting him and he wants to stop everything and just walk away. He would disappoint everyone -it wouldn’t be the first time. It would be worth his happiness, though. But he wouldn’t do it, he knows. He doesn’t have the courage to run away -to let things go so easily.

The urge is strong.

He’s a coward.

And his stomach drops when he thinks. 

_'What if I’m stuck here forever? What if they won’t let go of me and I’m caged here'. ___

____

____

And he hates this place a little more. He hates the people here a little more.

He hates himself even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language. So, if there are any mistakes, please mention them in the comments down below.


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that happened a couple weeks ago. But the freak outs are consistent. They've been happening for a few months, actually.
> 
> Generalized Male Character. No Self Harm.  
> Trigger Warning for Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Disassociation and Minor Starvation.

He can't stop smiling. He's happy. He's so happy that he can't stop grinning and he doesn't mind it either. It's a better change from the anxiety that swarms him all the time.

It's been such a long time since he was genuinely happy that he doesn't know how to deal with this much positive emotions. He tells his friends -the only three people that he cares about more than his own self. For whom he'd give up anything if it meant they'll be happy- and he thinks how much of a failure he is when he can't even handle simple happiness.

He doesn't realize how overwhelmed he is until he starts crying because that's the only way he knows how to deal with his emotions. He's so unequipped in this that he's overflowing and his emotions are all over the place.

He can't stay still, so he's literally bouncing on the heels of his feet. A sudden bout of pleasure swarms him and he yelps because "Oh-my-God-I-don't-know-how-to-deal-with-this".

Laughter bubbles from somewhere deep inside him and he's still crying. He's happy. He's happy and he wants to stay this way forever. He doesn't want to feel the anxiety and the sadness take control of him again. 

He gets even happier when he finds out his friends had a great day. Because it seems like after such a long time that all of them are happy and their happiness means the entire world, galaxies perhaps even the universe to him.

And then they're crying together because "I was happy to begin with but you freaking out over feeling happy is making me even more so". And then they're laughing as well because "it's good to see you like this. This is all I ever wanted for you".

And when he falls asleep that night his cheeks hurt from smiling that much and there are tear-tracks on his face but only this time he doesn't mind them much.

*

*

*

The happy spell stays for a couple more days and he feels like he's on cloud nine.

He's on his way to his home from work when it happens. He's sitting on the bus one minute and the next he's freaking out because "no. No, I shouldn't occupy this much space. What am I doing? I wasn't suppose to eat this much. What was I thinking?” It's so out of the blue that he can't comprehend what's happening until he's freaking out.

His breathing get out of control and his body tenses and "he-can't-move", he's freaking out over nothing. He doesn't know how he managed it but he does get home safe even when he feel like he might drop at any moment. His brain starts to fog up and he's slipping on auto-pilot again. He stays that way for a few hours but then he manages to pull himself out of the funk.

He doesn't tell anyone, of course he doesn't. But he feels better after talking to his friends. They've always been there for him and sometimes he still thinks he's dreaming when he realizes that they've stuck around for so long even after he has nothing but his selfishness to offer to them and they accept him any ways.

On days like these 'thank you’s are spilling from his lips rather than 'I'm sorry's.

It’s quite a change but he likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language. So, if there are any mistakes, please mention them in the comments down below.


	5. Chapter V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so its a little over 1K words but I needed to get it all off my chest. Most of it is probably word vomit and doesn't make sense. So, please bear with me. Still UnBeta'd.
> 
> Generalized Male Character. No Self-Harm.  
> Trigger Warning for Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Disassociation and Minor Starvation.

He disassociates.

It happens without a warning and leaves him disoriented the day after.

It isn’t the first time that it happened either. Sometimes it lasts for a few hours and sometimes days but he usually works through it like he would on a normal day –just on auto-pilot because he can’t comprehend what he’s suppose to do.

But it hadn’t been this bad for years. He remembers a time when he didn’t had anyone to talk to and all his coping methods included were; shutting down completely, having a breakdown or ignoring the problem altogether because he didn’t know what else to do.

But he’d been okay these days. Hadn’t had the need to disassociate. So, it leaves him confused and feeling _something_ that isn’t his own emotion. He doesn’t understand at first, there’s this ache in his chest and he doesn’t know what’s going on when he can’t express his emotions properly. But as the day goes on and it gets worse, it hits him.

Because no matter how shitty he feels he shouldn’t have difficulty in focusing on things more than one word at a time. He shouldn’t forget what he just said mere moments after he did. It shouldn’t take him _a while_ to recognize his own voice and the thought _shit I don’t wanna meet anyone, who’s this?_ Shouldn’t come to mind when he looks his face in the mirror.

It shouldn’t happen but it does and he remembers the last time it was this bad it lasted for months. For _literal months_ he went through the motions with the thought _if it’s not my life than why am I even trying?_ He remembers how he had to remind himself that _oh right! I am supposed to feel a particular way about this_ and even as he kept saying this to himself, he thinks a lot of people left because he couldn’t emote properly and maybe he said some things that he shouldn’t have –he made people give up on him and they left.

He _remembers_. He remembers as if it’s a distant memory and happened to someone else because he isn’t sure what he did or said. What he _is_ sure of is when he came back –when after months of floating somewhere and spectating on someone else’s life- he came crashing back and it was as if he’d been hit by a ginormous unseeable force that made him _feel_.

And God did it _hurt_. All the emotions that he’d kept at bay hit him at once and he _broke_. He broke and _he kept breaking for weeks_ –trying desperately to salvage _something, anything_ from the debris and chaos of his mind and thoughts and emotions so he could just breathe for one goddamn moment.

Screaming his heart out in a locked up room hoping someone would listen and save him from himself but no one ever came and he broke further apart. And later instead of screaming he learnt to stay silent –muffling his voice in a pillow, gritting his teeth so no one would hear him, biting his hand to the point where the marks wouldn’t fade for days.

He stayed silent and kept breaking.

And when months went by when he almost pieced himself together, it freaking happened again. And again and again and kept happening until it affected his work, his personal life –everything. Until he stopped trying and left his work and gave up on people and on everything. He gave up on himself.

And when he thought that he had hit rock bottom his mother found him at his lowest and he told her. He told her and his father and his sister everything and _cried_. For the longest of time he’d imagined what it would feel like to cry so openly and without a care of anyone else’s judgment. He was wrong to expect anything from them. It was a mistake. He was so stupid to think that he’d find _love_ and _support_ from his _parents_.

In the midst of crying and panicking and _crying_ he remembers how they all reacted –doesn’t think he can forget even if he wanted to- how his sister hugged him like he was dying and kept muttering apologies as if she was the cause –in that moment maybe he was with how difficult it was to breathe.

How his mother kept fretting and going on about how _you need to stop doing this to yourself. Please stop crying, just don’t think about it and everything will be okay. You’re making us worried, you need to stop or I’ll start panicking_. He remembers crying even harder and even louder at that because _for once in your life mom, please don’t make it about yourself. Please I can’t deal with it right now. I can’t_. But she didn’t stop and he kept crying.

His father’s reaction was the one that broke him completely. That made him stop and stare and _think_ how _anyone_ can be so ignorant and blind and when it comprehended he stopped breathing before being completely undone in his sister’s arms –she was still holding him but now because if she let go he would’ve collapsed in on himself.

The simple flick of his father’s hand and the complete nonchalance as he said _it’s probably nothing. You all know how sensitive he is. He must have seen something and got influenced by it. He just needs some attention and he’ll be fine_. And how he went back to his cell phone was the thing that undid him and made him stop crying, at the same time.

 _If his parents reacted this way, how would the others if they find out_. The thought made him stop. It made him numb and cold and he just _stopped_.

  
He stopped because the pain was too much and he didn’t want to feel it anymore, wanted to shut down for a while so he could breathe.

And he did. For how long he doesn’t remember. But he remembers feeling cold and able to breathe and crying because even if he did shut down –repressed his emotions- his mind didn’t and it made sure to make him remember how alone he was.

He stayed like that for months until he found this one person. That one person whom he had never met or seen or didn’t even know his real name showed him more kindness and compassion than anyone in his entire life.

He came and made himself home in his heart and life like he’d always been there and unknowingly saved him.

He came and taught him how to open up to people, how to be himself again. He taught him how to love again. It wasn’t even romantic love that he learnt. Just love at its purest, without expectations and accepting and so warm and kind that made him want _givegivegive_ to everyone.

He’s always been empathetic –a little too much even. But he showed him how to channel that empathy to care for others, to help them and not give up on them.

Yeah it may seem like romantic attraction to most but it isn’t. It’s so much more _familial_ and _platonic_. Because the understanding they have now is so much more than they imagined. It still surprises him sometimes when he’s feeling down and even through a text he can tell that something’s bothering him.

That’s how they work now, leaving everyone and everything when the other’s in need.

And it helps. It helps him when he’s feeling down, just a simple _I love you_ –so pure without any other meaning behind it- makes his day.

And he knows that it’s unfair to him that he relies on him for so many things –for his happiness. But he’s the person who saved him and changed him for the better and he can’t help but be grateful to him.

So, he gives, he gives and gives to anyone who’s in need in a way that he never had received because he doesn’t want anyone else to feel the way he did.

And he hopes that it’s _enough_.

That _he’s_ enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language. So, if there are any mistakes, please mention them in the comments down below.

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language. So, if there are any mistakes, please mention them in the comments down below.


End file.
